Lost and Found
by Helen Fayle
Summary: First published on adwc, Jan 99. A piece of extreme silliness inspired by the news that a long lost episode of "The Crusades" had been found, and sold at auction.


****

Lost and Found  
By

Helen Fayle

©January 1999

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" 

  
The Doctor grinned at her, blue eyes twinkling at her from under his fall of Byronic chestnut curls.

  
"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah - why so little faith?" Seeing her eyes narrow, and her mouth open, he hastily changed the subject. "Yes, well," he took her arm and steered her towards the auction room. "It's an historic occasion. I just thought you might like to see it - especially as you were asked to advise on that aborted American project back in 1996." It was the wrong thing to say. Sarah stopped walking and turned to face him.

  
"For all the good it did," she grumped. "Gazumped by Harlan Ellison!"

  
The Doctor patted her shoulder comfortingly, but she shook it off. "Don't. I'm still annoyed about that. I didn't even get to interview Ralph Fiennes!"

  
The Doctor's face fell, leaving Sarah feeling as if she'd just kicked a puppy. He meant well, she supposed. Taking his arm again, she forced a smile. "Come on then, we'll miss the bidding. I hope you weren't intending to buy it?"

  
He laughed. "Good grief, no. I've still got a full set of prints from the master copies!"

  
Sarah grinned up at him. "You HAD some of the master copies, if I remember rightly."

  
He coughed, embarrassed. "Please, not quite so loud, if you don't mind?"

  
~~~

  
The Auctioneer asked for silence just as Sarah and the Doctor entered the room. The only seats left were in the middle of a row near the back, and Sarah stayed behind the Doctor as he jostled and apologised his way past the occupants of the row in question, leaving at least a dozen irritated buyers in his wake. The Auctioneer coughed loudly as the Doctor "excused-me'd" one last time. 

As Sarah sat, she saw the Doctor flash the man a dazzling grin - "So sorry, do carry on", version 2 "I'm harmless really", she thought. Nice to see it still works. She turned her attention to the auctioneer.

  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I think you all know why we're here. By special arrangement, Lacey's is proud to offer for sale the long missing first episode of the British Television series, "Professor X" - "Two Poor Knights" from the serial "The Templars", property of a Mr. Michael Baldwin. The print is on 16mm film stock, and is in excellent condition, having been in storage for 30 years. The - "

  
Sarah turned and whispered to the Doctor; "The President of the PXAS is here. And the Friends of Professor X. And the editor of Professor X Magazine! I wonder-"

  
"Shhh"

She shushed.

  
"Who'll open the bidding?" 

The feeding frenzy began. It didn't help that the BBC representative had to be carted out five minutes later by Security, screeching something about "Intellectual property". 

~~~

  
The Doctor sat bolt upright.

  
"That's mine!" He yelped indignantly. He started to get up, but Sarah yanked him back down into his seat. The auctioneer stared at him. 

  
"Was that a bid, sir? It stands at £15,000." The Doctor shook his head, and the auctioneer continued, although not without a filthy look at the Doctor as he made his way out of the row of chairs, this time annoying the other side of the row. With a loud exhalation to let him know _exactly_ how she felt, Sarah followed him.

The Doctor made his way to the front of the room, joining a small group who were looking at the film, and making periodic comments into cell phones. One of them signalled the auctioneer, sparking a new murmer around the room as the price shot past the £20,000 mark. The Doctor stopped in front of the table, looking down at the film can. Sarah, who hadn't been looking where she was going, walked straight into his back. Absently, he put an arm out to field her, without taking his eyes off the merchandise.

"It _is_ my copy - look!" 

Sarah looked at the can, then at him. "I don't see a label marked "Return to The Doctor, c/o "The TARDIS", The Space/Time Vortex…" She got a withering look for her pains.

"It has," he said slowly, with exquisite control, "a tea stain on the label, where Romana once used it as a coaster. And there's a dent in one side that it got when she used it to play frisbee with K9." 

"So?"

"So, back to the TARDIS! I want to check something!"

Coat tails flapping, he was off and running, leaving Sarah to catch up as best she could. Puffing, she caught up with him in the corridor.

"But you said I could interview the buyer!" She wailed.

~~~

Sarah sat in the Doctor's huge tatty armchair, arms folded, occasionally drumming her fingers on her sleeve. From somewhere beyond the ornate, Vernian gothic folly of the console room, she could hear sounds of boxes being moved around violently. 

A particularly loud thud reverberated through the TARDIS. Sarah mentally amended her description: perhaps "thrown" would be more applicable. The Doctor stormed into the console room, velvet coat and hair covered in dust, carrying a familiar reel of film. Blowing dust off it, he stared glumly down at it.

"I don't understand. It was still there." He flopped down onto the rug in front of Sarah, still staring at the reel, as if somehow, if he looked at it long enough and hard enough, it would magically change, or disappear.

Sarah handed him a cup of tea. "Maybe you just haven't given it to that Michael Baldwin chap yet?"

"And why would I do THAT? Hmmm? Part of MY Professor X collection? The ONLY complete collection in this galaxy, might I add?" She'd begun to think that he couldn't look indignant in this incarnation, but he was managing it now. 

"Apart from the Master's, of course." She couldn't resist getting that dig in. The Doctor drank his tea and went back to staring at the reel, ignoring her.

"Doctor?"

"What?" 

"Maybe now you've seen it, you have to go back and put it into place. I mean, you can't change your own history, can you?" It seemed logical to Sarah.

"Maybe," he said hopefully, "I don't do it yet - maybe I bequeath it to him in my will. Or something." He caught Sarah's sideways look, and sighed. "No, you're right. I've got no way of knowing, have I.?"

Sarah grinned suddenly, as a thought occurred. She held up her tape recorder.

"Haven't you?" She asked mischievously. 

~~~

"Michael Baldwin?"

The young man addressed looked up from his newspaper. The woman standing in front of his table was holding out a hand. Remembering his manners, he stood up and shook it.

"That's me."

"Sarah Jane Smith. I'm a freelance journalist. I was wondering if - "

"Yeah - you're a Sci-Fi writer, as well, aren't you? I think I read some of your stuff in Interzone?" She was, he thought, a little older than he'd thought: somewhere in that ageless look a woman can get, that can last between 35 and 50, if she's lucky. Kind of on the small side, but not bad looking. She had a pretty smile, anyway. 

"It pays the bills. Look, can I sit down?" 

"Sure." He pulled the chair out for her. "Can I get you a drink?"

"White wine, thanks." She pulled out her tape recorder while he went to the bar. As he put the drink in front of her a few minutes later and sat down again, she leant towards him.

"Do you mind?" She gestured at the recorder. He smiled and said it was. "I wanted to talk to you about that Professor X episode you just returned to the Reconstruction Team. I think I might be able to get Metropolitan interested in an article - "

~~~

She tossed her bag onto the seat and climbed into the car next to the Doctor.

"I told you. No problem!"

"You found out how he got it?"

"Trust me. He bought it from someone at the Studio Archives in New York, back in '95, whilst he was over there at a convention. Had it lying around the house for a couple of years before anyone realised what it was." She paused. "Take a left here."

"That's not the way back to the TARDIS!" But he made the turn. "Where are we going?"

"Back to my office. I want to file this story!"

~~~

Sarah sighed theatrically. "How much longer are you going to take with that lock?" she hissed. The Doctor reached out a hand and steadied the torch she was holding.

"Will you hold that still? Trying to get this open without tripping the alarm is tricky enough. And how long until that security guard comes back?"

"About 3 minutes. Will you hurry up? I'm freezing!" To enforce her point, she stamped her feet a couple of times. And wondered for the umpteenth time what she was doing in a back lot of a TV studio in New York, trying to break into the studio archives.

Well, it was a rhetorical question, wasn't it? The Doctor had a bee in his bonnet about his precious TV show episode, and wanted to check the vaults. So here they were, January 12th 1995, four weeks before Michael Baldwin would be in the city as a guest at the annual Professor X convention. 

The Doctor interrupted her musing:

"There. Got it. It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch!" He tucked the sonic screwdriver back into his ever capacious pockets, and gave the door a push. It swung open silently. "Shall we?"

"You're irresponsible!" Sarah hissed at him, as she walked past him. He just beamed at her.

"Thank you!"

Sarah gritted her teeth as he passed her in the corridor. "Smug G-"

His head peered back at her from around a corner.

"Are you coming?"

"Oh, lead on , MacDuff!"

Catching up with him, she handed the torch to him. With an almost ferocious intensity, he began checking the signs on the doors they passed.

"He wasn't all that bad a chap, you know," he said conversationally as they checked one likely candidate and moved on.

"Who, MacDuff?"

"No, Macbeth."

Sarah pulled a face behind his back. "Namedropper," she muttered.

She bounced off his back again as he came to a dead stop in front of a large door marked "Archive Room 1".

"Is this it?" she asked. The Doctor handed the torch back to her, and took out the sonic screwdriver again. 

"I hope so. If it isn't I'm going to have to do this for every vault until I find the one we want."

"And how many would that be?"

"According to that very nice young executive you charmed over lunch, another eleven after this one."

Sarah tapped him on the shoulder. "You'd better hope you can open these locks a bit more quickly than the one on the outside door then."

"Why?"

"Because," she whispered in his ear, "It's one o'clock in the morning, and at 15 minutes per lock, plus searching time…"

He glared at her. "Well you'd better shut up and let me get on with then, hadn't you?" And went back to picking the lock.

~~~

"Archive Room 4." Sarah sighed heavily, aiming the torch at the shelves. "And it's 4 o'clock. Don't you think it's time we - "

The Doctor's head poked up from one of the lower shelves.

"Aha!" Triumphantly, he held up a dusty film reel. Sarah obligingly shone the torch onto the label. His face fell. "Oh. The Zaragathon Menace, Episode 3. Well, can't leave THAT lying around, now can I?" She hadn't thought he could have got something that size into his coat pocket, but it disappeared readily enough. She looked at him quizzically.

"Maybe it's in one of the others?" She asked, in an attempt to lift his spirits. The Doctor thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, leaning against the racking with a dejected air. Absently, he pulled a crumpled paper bag out of his pocket, helping himself to a rather squishy looking jelly baby. He offered the bag to Sarah, but she declined:

"No thanks, I know how long you keep those things around for. Not to mention I never know where they've been."

He looked hurt "In my pocket, actually."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Sarah muttered. "We've got time to try another vault?"

"No, everything for Professor X is here. There are a couple of reels, and some videotape, but not this - " Sarah didn't see where the reel appeared from - all of a sudden, it was in his hands. He sighed. "I just wish -"

"I told you I saw a light!"

The voice came from the corridor. Sarah let out a slight squeak as the Doctor yanked her behind some racking, but retained enough presence of mind to switch off the torch. Trying desperately not to think of things like how loud their breathing sounded in here, or how American security guards tended to carry guns, Sarah stood as still as she could, her back pressed against the Doctor, his arm around her - 

"Oi!" she hissed. "Do you mind?" She tapped his hand.

"Oh, Sorry." He whispered apologetically, moving the offending limb a little lower. They both froze as footsteps came closer, and the door opened. A torch shone into the room and a voice called out:

"Okay, come out with your hands up, whoever you are!"

The Doctor pushed past Sarah, walking right up to the bulky security guard who had spoken.

"It's quite all right, we're harmless. Aren't we, Sarah?"

"Oh, quite." She nodded vigorously, walking cautiously forward to stand behind the Doctor. At times like this, she found herself wishing he still looked imposing…

At that moment, the Doctor was thinking the very same thing. Beaming his most innocent smile at the guard, he tried to catch the man's eye. Really, hypnotising his way out of trouble had been so much easier with some of his earlier incarnations. Especially the pop eyed bohemian scarecrow Sarah had been so fond of. 

"Charlie - get the police!" Barked the guard, totally ignoring eye contact with the Doctor. As the second man nodded and trotted off down the corridor, the Doctor gave up the mesmerising stare as a bad job. Pointing suddenly and shouting "Look out," he neatly knocked the guard on the side of the neck as he turned, grabbed Sarah by the hand, and pulled her down the corridor at a run. A mistake. They were running straight towards the second guard. Deciding that there was no time for finesse, the Doctor carried on running, knocking him flying. A final sprint, and they were out of the building, and heading as fast as they could off the premises.

It was only when they reached the TARDIS that the Doctor realised that he'd dropped his precious reel of film somewhere along the way…

~~~

"The Professor X Society of America are proud to announce in conjunction with the BBC, the world premiere screening of "Two Poor Knights" the first episode of the long lost First Professor story, "The Templars" at their convention in August. Shaun Coke of BBC Books said…"

"Please. Sarah. Would you mind not rubbing it in?" The Doctor was staring glumly into his cup of tea. As Sarah looked up from the PC, he dropped a fifth sugar lump into the cup. 

"Oh, do cheer up. It's not as if you can't get a copy!"

"Yes. But it won't be _mine_, now will it?" Another sugar lump plinked into the teacup.

"You're sulking!" Sarah said accusingly. 

"It's a work of art, you know," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "I mean, most people overlook the Historicals: it's all Zargathons, Zargathons, Zargathons. I mean, when you've seen one Zargathon, you've seen them all - but does anyone stop to think about the quality of the Historicals? I mean, this one even has sections written in iambic pentameter! A work of genius."

"Hmmm."

"And I dropped it!"

Sarah winced. She'd been hoping for a little more time before bringing up the subject.

"Actually, I think you were supposed to." She handed him her notebook, where she'd transcribed her conversation with Baldwin. "If you'd just look at the description of the chap he bought the reel off at the studio…?"

He took the book and read. 

"Sort of reddish brown… cravat… Green velv - "

The Doctor's jaw dropped, and he stared up at Sarah, wide eyed. "Oh. Shit." He said faintly.

~~~

Epilogue.

April 1999, Wood Lane, London. Room B405, home of the Professor X Restoration Team.

"Hey, Simon!" A long haired young man lifted a battered film can out of a bin. "I hope this is empty?"

"What? Oh, that. It was dented all to hell and gone, and the label looked as if someone had used it as a coaster. I put the film in a new can. You can take it if you want?"

"Nah." He threw it back in the bin. "It's the contents that cost us £22,000 quid. Which reminds me, you did lock it up?"

"Safe as houses. Anyway, we've got copies, just in case. Hey, if you're staying late - "

"No I'm not, so get a move on! Are you going home - or is it pub night?"

"Second Tuesday in the month, mate! I'm off down to the King's Son before those bloody writers drink the place dry again!"

Sounds of a door closing and being locked…

~~~

Minutes later, the same building…

"Doctor… can ye hurry up? I need tae go…!"

"Just a moment Jamie. Won't be long. These primitive locks are a bit tricky to pick by hand, you know!"

"Aye, but why can't ye jest kick the door down? I wouldnae mind doing it!"

"Jaime, really! The whole point of this exercise is to get in and out, with the episode, unnoticed. Now, hold that torch steady." The Doctor chuckled. "I've wanted a copy of this for years. I must say, it was a stroke of luck finding that article about the BBC buying that 16mm print at auction…"

~~~

Additional suggestions by Mark Phippen

With apologies to Jonathan Morris for the use of The Zargathon!


End file.
